


wrestling with the wind

by Singofsolace



Category: Chilling Adventures of Sabrina (TV 2018)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Non-Magical, F/F, Motorcycles, Romance, Skateboarding lesbian
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-13
Updated: 2020-01-13
Packaged: 2021-02-27 11:48:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,640
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22236610
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Singofsolace/pseuds/Singofsolace
Summary: When Lilith, the skateboarding, tomato-stealing lesbian meets Zelda, the elegant, willful daughter of a mortician, sparks (and motorcycles) fly.Written in response to the second Madam Spellman 2020 Challenge Prompt: Road trip.
Relationships: Zelda Spellman/Lilith, Zelda Spellman/Mary Wardwell | Madam Satan | Lilith
Comments: 20
Kudos: 84
Collections: Madam Spellman 2020 Challenge





	wrestling with the wind

**Author's Note:**

> For anyone who hasn't seen the Savage Snowflake podcast in which Michelle Gomez declares that she was once a "skateboarding lesbian," there are several references in this fic to that interview, as well as to a fanart that was created by @cleocatdraws. Also, the motorcycle idea was inspired by Michelle's Instagram story entitled, "Biker Bitch." The fic title is a song lyric borrowed from "Born to Be Wild" by Steppenwolf.
> 
> This fic is a non-magical AU that takes place in 1969. Zelda is 28 and Lilith is 29. They get hot and heavy on a motorcycle because why not? Please let me know what you think! 
> 
> CW: implied child abuse

Lilith arrived in Greendale on an unseasonably warm winter’s night in 1969. She needed at least eight hours of sleep and some good, stick-to-your ribs food if she was going to make it to… wherever she was going. When she couldn’t trust her eyes to stay focused on the road any longer, she checked into a dodgy-looking motel on Main Street at half past midnight, so tired that she hardly paid any mind to the strange look she received from the elderly man behind the desk as he handed her a room key.

Lilith had never been the kind of woman to stay in one town for very long. She’d been kicked out of the only home she’d ever known as a teenager and had never once looked back. She picked up odd jobs whenever she could, but mostly she just rode her motorcycle from city to city, desperately trying to quiet the voice in her head that was always whispering: _run_.

Tossing her leather jacket onto a wobbly-looking chair and kicking off her boots, Lilith didn’t bother to undress any further before collapsing onto the motel bed. She’d slept in far worse places, but the springs beneath her spine kept her awake long into the night. Staring at the popcorn ceiling, Lilith wondered if she would find anything in this town worth staying for, or if she would be back on the road faster than a knife fight in a phone booth.

* * *

Zelda Spellman couldn’t sleep. At twenty-eight years old, she found it vaguely ridiculous that she still shared a bedroom with her sister. Her sister, the _snorer_. Hilda had never been a quiet sleeper, but tonight it seemed especially hard to ignore. Zelda debated getting up; reading would be a far better use of her time than staring at the window, waiting for the sun to rise.

But her body was tired, even if her mind was not. She’d buried a six-year-old girl that afternoon. Her father had left her in charge, despite his constant disparaging reminders that she had no talent for the business. It was either her or Hilda—Edward never helped, except in the embalming room, because he was not the kind of man to offer comfort to complete strangers—and Hilda was always dissolving into tears when she ought to be running memorial services.

Zelda didn’t mind all the responsibility, but on those days when the casket was far too small, and the mourners far too young, she felt she ought to leave the mortuary altogether. She couldn’t imagine growing old here, in this sleepy town full of small-minded people. She didn’t want to end up like her mother, who had never once stepped foot outside of Greendale. She needed to get out, but as long as her family needed her, she knew she would be stuck in a room that was not her own, listening to the hoarse sound of her sister’s breaths, praying for something more.

* * *

Having very few options by way of restaurants to choose from, Lilith found herself in an absolutely _absurd_ café, where bookshelves took up the majority of the space, and horror-film paraphernalia covered every available surface. After a hearty English breakfast, Lilith decided to take a stroll down Main Street, momentarily persuaded by the strangeness of the bookstore to take a keener interest in this town’s population.

There were several booths set up along the sidewalks, laden with fresh vegetables and fruits. Lilith nicked a tomato from one booth just because she could, slipping it into the pocket of her leather jacket in a sly manner while the seller leered at the striking young woman beside her in a black dress. Lilith had to admit, if there were ever a woman worth staring at, it was the red-headed beauty a few feet away, but it still made her blood boil that the man was so _obvious_ about it.

Moving on to the next booth, where an assortment of apples was on display, Lilith didn’t notice the woman had followed her until she heard a melodic voice say, “I’ve never met a tomato-thief before.”

Turning around a bit too sharply, Lilith nearly collided with the woman as she said, “I’m not a thief.”

Smiling mischievously, the strange woman slipped her hand into Lilith’s pocket. “Oh? Then what’s this?”

Not wanting to be caught red-handed, Lilith grabbed the woman’s wrist before she could produce the tomato. “Excuse me? Do you often put your hands into other people’s pockets? It seems that _you’re_ the thief, not me.”

The red-headed woman smiled, and Lilith felt a strange sensation, as if there was something fluttering around in her stomach.

“Believe me, the only thing I’ve stolen is your breath away,” the woman said, tilting her head coquettishly.

Accustomed to being the pursuer, not the pursued, Lilith found herself at a loss for words. It was only then that she realized that she was still holding the stranger’s wrist, and let it go immediately with a quick apology.

The woman only shook her head, dismissing the apology as she extended her hand again, this time in a greeting. “My name is Zelda Spellman. I’m sorry if I’ve come off too strong. It’s just that I don’t see many beautiful strangers in this town. Most people pass us right by.”

Lilith shook Miss Spellman’s hand, allowing her eyes to wander as she did. The woman had a kind of glow about her that she couldn’t describe. “I’m Lilith.”

Zelda lifted a perfectly-shaped eyebrow at that. “Just Lilith?”

“ _Just_ Lilith,” she repeated, a bit more forcefully than was strictly necessary. She hadn’t gone by her familial name ever since she had been kicked out of her home by dear old dad.

“Okay, ‘just Lilith,’” nodded Zelda, seeming to understand what had remained unspoken. “I would ask you if you wanted to get a drink, but it’s a bit early, even for me.”

Lilith couldn’t explain it, but she suddenly felt the need to know everything there was to know about this woman. “Not for me.”

Flipping a curtain of red curls over her shoulder, Zelda said, “This is where I would invite you home for a drink, if I were that kind of woman—and if I didn’t live in a mortuary.”

Lilith blinked several times, waiting for an indication that this was a joke, but when none came, she said, “You’re serious?”

“As serious as a cradle-sized coffin,” said Zelda, her eyes going glassy for a moment, as if she’d drifted far away.

“So…you’re a funeral director?” Lilith had a hard time wrapping her head around that concept. She allowed her eyes to rake down the woman again, as if looking for signs that death clung to her. All she saw was a young woman in a form-fitting black dress with a white-lace-collar and pearls.

“A mortician,” Zelda corrected, though the difference was lost on Lilith. “What do _you_ do?”

Lilith didn’t want to have to explain her aimless, vagabond life, so instead she said, “How about I show you?”

Together they walked back down Main Street, Lilith leading them towards the motel parking lot. As they walked, Zelda told Lilith a little bit about the town’s history. Apparently, there had been witch trials in Greendale just as there had been in Salem.

Eventually, they came to a stop in front of Lilith’s motorcycle. “Here she is!”

“It’s a beautiful bike,” said Zelda in appreciation. “Are you saying you travel for a living?”

“Something like that,” Lilith nodded. “I could take you for a spin if you like?”

But before Zelda could respond, a man’s voice could be heard shouting the woman’s name. “Zelda Fiona Spellman, where the _hell_ have you been?”

Lilith and Zelda turned to see a large, red-faced man barreling towards them. Lilith was shocked by the way Zelda’s face instantly drained of all color.

“Father, I—”

“There’s no excuse! No excuse!”

“But Father, I only—”

“You’re coming with me, _insolent_ girl.” The man grabbed Zelda’s arm, seemingly intent on dragging her away.

Lilith reacted without thinking; she placed herself in the middle of the scene, and managed to tear the man’s bruising grip off of his daughter’s arm.

“What do you think you’re doing?” the man said, breathing hard.

Lilith wrapped an arm around Zelda’s waist, leading her towards the bike. “I’m taking your daughter for a ride while you cool off.”

With that, the two women climbed onto the motorcycle and tore out of the parking lot, leaving Mr. Spellman baffled in their dust. Zelda wrapped her arms around Lilith’s middle, clutching her hard to keep from flying off the back. They rode for what seemed like hours with the wind in their hair. Eventually they came to a rest stop that overlooked a valley between two mountains.

“That was incredible,” said Zelda, out of breath. “I’ve never felt more alive.”

“Neither have I,” said Lilith as she took off her helmet, flipping her mane of dark hair out of her face.

“I know we’ve only just met,” said Zelda as she dropped her hands from Lilith’s waist, “but—”

“I know,” said Lilith, swinging herself around so that they were facing each other on the motionless bike.

“Would it be okay if—I mean, I really want to—” Zelda fumbled for the right words, staring into Lilith’s clear blue eyes.

Lilith didn’t respond with words. Instead, she seized Zelda by the back of the neck and brought her into a passionate kiss. It was all tongue and teeth and lips, and when they finally broke apart for air, Zelda nearly launched herself onto Lilith’s lap.

Never in all her life had Lilith felt more at home than with this beautiful stranger’s body wrapped around her own. Perhaps she had finally found something—or rather, _someone_ —worth staying for.


End file.
